


Leaves from the Vine

by Writerleft



Series: Comes Marching Home [89]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Body Swap, F/F, Korrasami Week 2019, Let Forever Be Forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerleft/pseuds/Writerleft
Summary: Asami Sato was 89 years old.





	1. Chapter 1

Asami woke to the sound of a page turning. Opening her eyes and turning her head, she saw Korra there, propped up with pillows, glasses low on her nose as she read. “Good morning, Sparks,” Korra said. 

Asami stretched her old bones, then rolled over to prop herself up. “Good morning yourself. Been up long?” 

“Not long at all,” Korra said, “but waiting to be with you is always an eternity.” 

Asami blew out her tongue at Korra’s corniness, but still took hold of one of Korra’s hands to give it a quick kiss. “Might as well get up, start the day!” 

Korra snorted. “Really, Asami? Don’t you ever want to just stay in bed, waste a day away now and then?” 

Asami walked around the bed. “As if a day with you could ever be a waste.” She leaned down and gave her wife a kiss. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” 

Korra groused about how close she was to finishing her book, but went ahead and followed Asami’s lead, pushing the blanket off her legs then scooting to the side of the bed. Asami stuck the smooth board beneath her, and Korra slid easily over to her wheelchair.

Their morning ministrations passed easily, as all things do in good company. Hygiene, makeup, medication, teasing and playing all the while. Korra waterbent her toothpaste spit into the sink from across the bathroom while Asami glued in her dentures, leaving her no way to reply but a roll of her eyes. She made sure to ruffle Korra’s hair in return before helping her out of the bathroom and to breakfast.

Korra still loved to cook, and Asami still loved to watch her. The kitchen was adjusted for her, of course, everything at wheelchair height. The rice she made wasn’t as complex as it had been, years ago, but Korra took the time to add a little extra verve--and Asami knew how important it was to Korra to have some things she could do by herself, wheelchair or no.

Mian called shortly after breakfast, and she and Korra did love to go on and on, so Asami cleared the table. Come to think of it, Mian seemed to call right after breakfast with some frequency--and Asami wound up cleaning up the whole kitchen because of it… 

“Why are you laughing?” Korra asked, one hand over the receiver. 

“I have a clever wife!” Asami replied, and finished the dishes. 

Mysteriously, Mian’s conversation with Korra ended just as Asami was finishing. Korra waggled the phone, asked, anything you want to say to our daughter? 

“Just looking forward to seeing the great-grandkids,” Asami said, then shouted, “LOVE YOU, SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!” 

Korra chuckled, finished off the conversation as Asami dried her hands. She sat the phone aside, then sighed. “I suppose it’s exercise time.” 

“Half an hour, every day,” Asami repeated. 

“Can’t we skip leg day for once?” 

“Your legs hurt _ because _ you skip leg days.” 

“My legs hurt _ because _ some asshole tried to kill me seventy years ago,” she pouted, but when push came to shove, she couldn’t really do much to stop Asami pulling Korra’s legs through the stretches other than complain. And one advantage of those morning phone calls, was, “Hey, while I do this, why don’t you fill me in on what Mian had to say?” 

Muscle massages and joint stretches were thus accompanied by stories of great grandchildren’s baby antics, grandchildren’s work troubles, and their son-in-law’s adjusting to retirement. As much as Korra whined, she seemed surprised when the exercises were done.

“It looks beautiful outside today,” Korra said. “Why don’t we go to the park?” 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Asami said. There was only one park within walking distance, and while driving was an option, the whole production made Korra self-conscious enough that they had quietly and mutually decided to make their plans avoid it as much as possible. Luckily, in this case, the parkland around the Spirit Portal was only a few blocks away, and easily the most beautiful in the city--save, perhaps, the one with a statue of Korra herself standing in the middle of it. 

That was Asami’s favorite, at least. 

Korra pushed herself the whole way there, as she could most days, Asami walking at her side as much as possible. The rules Asami had forced through all those years ago to make the city accessible were surely paying dividends now, but there was only so much that could be done in a city of millions of people. Korra simply had a wider footprint now, which made choke points harder to navigate. 

Worse, she needed her hands to travel. Which meant Asami couldn’t hold one. 

That’s the one thing she missed most, really--holding Korra’s hand as they walked. The casual intimacy of it, the reassurance of Korra’s fingers… 

They paused at an intersection, waiting for the walk signal, and Korra’s hand raised to clasp hers. 

As often happened after sixty some-odd years of marriage, it seemed like they were thinking the same thing. 

The park was beautiful, just enough golden leaves clinging to the trees to keep their shape and their sway, while more wafted through the air. Plenty for children to frolic through and play in--or for Korra to juggle with her airbending. She chuckled to herself, suddenly, and Asami gave her a questioning look. “Oh, just realized how I navigate shifting crowds so easily.” She cupped her hands together in just the right place for one of the falling leaves to settle on them. “Just following some basic old airbender advice.” 

Asami smiled, and led her to a bench near the crater’s edge. Korra stopped her chair beside it, and without too much difficulty, they got her onto the bench so they could sit, side by side, hand in hand, watching the spirits, and making up stories about them. 

It was a favorite pastime, and one the spirits themselves had somehow gotten wind of. Asami and Korra didn’t mind. “Ooh, that jellyfish looking one,” Asami said, pointing at a magenta spirit spiraling its way out of the portal. “They just had an argument with their supervisor over how many acorns were produced by each tree in their coastal forest.” 

“Where?” Korra asked. 

“Um… Kyoshi Island,” Asami decided. “They had to specialize in big and strong acorns that could withstand Kyoshi’s giant feet.” 

A small crowd of little spirits tittered around them, laughing at their brethren’s imagined escapades--or perhaps, laughing at these humans’ ridiculous ideas about what spirits got up to. No matter. Korra’s laugh was still as pure and crisp and beautiful as it ever was. 

Two spirits stepped out of the portal--one looked a bit like an old phonograph with legs, while the other was almost human other than the backwards knees and feathered skin. “Those two,” Korra said, “are traveling to the Material World for their anniversary.” 

“Anniversary?” 

“Yup. Seven thousand years.” 

“Well, cheers to them,” Asami said. “And good luck on the next seven thousand.” 

Time passed, and as much as they were enjoying themselves, their bodies, as it happened, had their own ideas. They made their way to a favorite restaurant, just outside the university, and took a table outside. 

“You know,” Asami said, having the grace to wait between bites, “It amazes me you’ve gotten this far in life, and still not learned how to eat noodles without making a mess.” 

Korra finished slurping up a noodle, the final drop of moisture flinging across the table onto Asami’s glasses. “Wha oo oo mee?” Korra asked, her cheeks distended. 

Asami laughed, and waited until the end of the meal to clean her lenses off. 

“I love days like this,” Korra said, allowing Asami to push her back home. 

“Cool? Autumn? Peaceful?” 

“All of it. Together. Whatever… just… being with you. Have I told you that I love you at least twenty times yet today?” 

“Not quite that many,” Asami chuckled. 

“Well, I love you,” Korra said. 

“I love you too,” Asami replied. “You goof.” 

They got back home, and Korra wanted to call Zin to talk about some of the spirits they’d seen. As the conversation began, Asami settled into her favorite chair with the newspaper, but found that current events couldn’t keep her interest--she’d seen it all before. All that walking in and from the park had tired her out a bit, and she thought, perhaps, she could stand to close her eyes. Just for a little while. 

When Korra finished her call and asked what Asami wanted to do next, Asami was already resting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avatar Korra Sato was 88 years old.

“Mian,” Mom said, looking through the airship’s railing at the endless expanse of the Si Wong desert rolling below them, “do you know if anyone else still flies around in airships like this? I know airplanes have mostly taken over, but… does anyone still take their time and fly in luxury like this?” 

Mian closed her book around her finger. It was the most Mom had said all day, and even rarer for being a conversation starter. “I think there’s still sky-cruises in service, but they tend to travel more scenic areas. More the Great Divide, less endless baking sand dunes.” 

Mom nodded. “Everyone’s in such a hurry these days. They don’t stop to think about the journey.” For a moment, she seemed to look inward, to remember another airship journey, so many years ago. But the thought was quickly brushed away, covered with the same quiet smile that Mian didn’t find nearly as reassuring as she had a few months ago. “Do you know where we are in the desert? Are we near your husband’s hometown?” 

Mian scanned the horizon, though the desert provided few landmarks. “I don’t  _ think _ so. His clan is closer to the lakes.”

If the answer satisfied her, she didn’t show it. She stared off at some point on the horizon, as if there were something there only she could see. Which, for all Mian knew, there was. “I never visited this part of the desert,” she said. “Even when I was wandering, looking for Raava…” 

“Well, from what Yul-Ri tells me, there’s not much to recommend it,” Mian said, trying to follow her mother’s gaze. 

“Could you tell the captain to steer us that way?” Korra said, pointing. “If there’s a town there, I think I might like to see it.” 

Mian leaned forward. “We’ll be late reaching Ba Sing Se.”

“Eh. I’ve seen that city before. I’ve never been to this village, have I? Never too late to see new things. Never too late…” 

Mian smiled for her. This whole trip had been Mom’s idea, after all. If it might make her happy... “I’ll ask if there’s anything over there. Do you want anything to drink, any snacks while I’m up?” 

Mom shook her head. “No, Nugget, I’m fine.” She clasped her hands together in her lap, the fingers of her right hand tracing the peridot of her wedding ring. A moment later, remembering Mian was still there, she favored her with that same smile again. The one that wasn’t exactly fake, but wasn’t exactly real, either. “I really am. I just think this town might be interesting to see. Humor your mother.” 

Mian tried to cover her worry with a smile of her own. “Okay, Mom.” She set her book on the bench as she stood, her own joints creaking as she went inside. 

“There’s a small railroad town out that way,” the captain told her once she’d delivered Mom’s request. “We’d get there an hour or so before dark, but would probably be better off staying there for the night.” 

Mian shrugged. “Ba Sing Se can wait an extra day for another Avatar visit.” 

“Right,” chuckled the captain, plotting the new course. 

Mian swung by the galley for some fruit. Mom didn’t always eat enough these days, but she’d usually eat a bite or two when Mian brought snacks, if only to placate her. 

At this point, Mian would take it. 

As she neared the hatch leading back out to the observation deck, Mian spotted Zin staring out at their mother. He stood as tall as ever, leaning with his arm between his head and the window, half for support, half to hide his eyes. 

He had always been pensive, but the intensity of his stare, his stance… 

She transferred the drinks and snacks to one hand so she could place the other on his back. “I miss her too,” she said, leaning her head into her brother’s side. “I don’t like to let it show around Mom, but… I know she’d rather it was Mama sitting there with her, not me.” 

“She loves sitting with you,” Zin said. “But yeah, I guess it’s not the same.” 

“Never going to be the same,” Mian said quietly. 

Zin wiped his eyes. It felt as if he wanted to say something, but kept convincing himself not to. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Finally, “I… I felt us change course, earlier. Where are we headed?” 

Mian shrugged. “Mom pointed this way. There’s some random little town she wants to see.” 

“Did she give a reason?”

“Not really?” She sighed. “I’m just… glad to see her wanting anything. Maybe she’s finally starting to take a little joy in life again?” 

“Is  _ that  _ what you think is happening?” Zin’s eyebrows rose, wrinkling his forehead tattoo. “Mian, we’ve hit the Fire Nation, both Water Tribes, Omashu, Zaofu… she’s been checking on old friends, local governments, White Lotus offices… Mian. This is a goodbye tour.”

A goodbye…

The drinks in Mian’s hand nearly slipped out. One of the apples cradled in her arm did, rolling onto the floor. 

A goodbye tour? “Zin, don’t talk that way. We only lost Mama six months ago, I couldn’t take… I couldn’t take losing Mom, too.” 

He’d faced her when she started dropping things, but now he turned to look back outside. “She’s lonely, Mian. She’s lonely, and her family is happy, and the world is at peace. That’s what she’s been checking on, just… making sure everything’s in order. She misses Asami. How long do you think she wants to linger without her?”

Trembling, Mian managed to bend down to set the fruit and drinks on the floor on purpose. “She can’t… she’s  _ Avatar Korra _ . She wouldn’t just give up… she… Kyoshi. Avatar Kyoshi lived 230 years. Mom’s not even 90!”

Zin pulled her into a hug. “You know she’s the strongest, most stubborn fighter in the world. Look at her, Mian. Is she fighting?” 

Mian looked out the window with him. Their mother sat in her wheelchair, turned now in the direction the ship was travelling. Wind rippled through her short, grey hair, and though her eyes were closed, she didn’t seem to be meditating. 

Just… waiting. 

“I’ve seen it so many times, in my patients,” Zin said. “Health is about more than the body. It’s… what the spirit wants, too. People hold on just long enough to see that one last birthday, or to see a grandchild born. Or people healthy as can be, right up until their partner dies, and then…” 

Mian swallowed. “Spirits, Zin, you think she’s just up and decided to… stop living?” 

“I think… I think our mother is a wise, strong woman. I think she has lived a long and hard but very full life. It makes sense that she’d like to leave it gracefully.” 

“Oh, stop being so cosmically centered for ten damned minutes!” Mian said, slapping him in the side. “You talk like you’re so sure, but you  _ can’t _ be okay with this!” 

“Mian…” He hugged her tight. “I’ve been suspecting this since we first left Republic City a month ago. I suppose I’ve… already been mourning, in my way.” 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner! We could’ve started talking to her… convinced her she has so much more to live for--”

“Does she?” 

Mian sobbed for some time after that. Zin held her gently, allowed her to cry it out. 

That was a lesson from long ago, ingrained deep in this family--tears are not meant to be kept inside. Tears allow your spirit to speak, to tell you what it needs. 

When Mian was finally done, finally settled, finally able to wipe her face and look presentable, they were nearing the town Mom had somehow known would be there. She was still sitting on the deck, facing into the wind, eyes closed, but smiling gently. 

Mian and Zin went out to her, snacks forgotten on the floor. “Hey, Mom,” Mian said. “We’re nearly at that town you mentioned.” 

“Mmm?” Korra said, opening her eyes. “Ah, good. You’re both here.” She smiled up at each of them. “I’m eager to see it.” 

Whether the people in the town were surprised to see the airship because there weren’t many flying anymore, or because they were so remote that any visitors were a rarity, Mian couldn’t say. But it did bring out the curious--children especially, but younger adults also, those that maybe had seen the outside world on their moverboxes but had never been able to hop a train away in either direction. 

It was remote enough, in fact, that it took over half an hour before Mian heard the word ‘Avatar’ on anyone’s lips. 

That seemed to be fine with Mom. She was happy to allow Mian to wheel her along the single thoroughfare, glancing into a few store windows, sending Zin into a shop for a nice slushy drink. Some children came up to greet her, and while she spoke with them kindly, she didn’t offer to play with them or ask them questions as Mian might’ve expected. 

She was glad she’d cried herself out before, because now that Zin had planted that thought in her mind… 

“Hello,” Mom said suddenly, eyes locked on someone across the street. Mian nearly jumped--she couldn’t remember the last time Mom had raised her voice that loud. “Take me over there, Mian. Let’s go talk to that couple.” 

“Aye aye,” Mian said, checking the sun-blasted road for traffic as if she’d seen a single car on it yet, then guiding her over. Zin used his long legs to get in front of them, getting the attention of the couple Korra seemed interested in. 

“Oh, Spirits!” the woman said, covering her mouth as she turned toward them. One arm was cradling a baby in a sling around her shoulder. The other poked the man beside her. “Honey, it’s really her!” 

“I’d be... “ he muttered. “It’s… why, it’s an honor to meet you, Avatar Korra!” 

They both bowed their heads. 

Mom laughed. “Now, now, none of that. What are your names?” 

“I’m Zheng,” he said, “And this here is Lia.” 

Zin and Mian looked at each other. Mom hadn’t seemed interested in anything else in this town--what was this about?

“And who’s that?” Mom aked, nodding at the swaddled bundle slung across Lia’s chest. 

Zheng beamed. “Why, that’s our firstborn, Avatar Korra. Named him Mushi, after my grandpa.” 

“Would you like to see him?” Lia asked. 

“Please. Trust me: these old arms are strong enough to hold up a baby.” 

Lia looked to Zheng. Zheng shrugged, then gestured at Korra. Lia seemed to argue with herself for a moment, but finally she relented, pulling the slumbering infant from his sling. 

“Ohh, what a darling child,” Mom said, and for the first time in half a year, Mian saw her Mom smile. Really smile. The baby groggily opened his eyes, looking up at Mom with classic baby confusion.

“Could you…” Zheng said, shuffling on his feet, “that is… could you say a blessing for him, maybe?” 

“A blessing… I’m not particularly used to granting blessings but… well I don’t suppose it would do any harm.” She stood him up on her knees, hands beneath his armpits, fingers supporting his head. Lia half-reached forward to grab him, but forced herself to stay calm. 

Korra noticed none of that. The baby’s eyes had locked on hers, and he’d giggled, and she’d giggled right back. “Bless the spirits,” Korra muttered to herself. “For I suspect this child will do great things.” 

“T-Truly, Avatar?” Zheng asked. 

She smiled, offering his son back to him. “With such loving parents? I’m sure of it.” 

“Well, alright!” he said, grinning, turning to Lia. “You hear that, Doll?” 

“I did. But… all due respect, of course, Avatar Korra, but I knew that already, without you saying it.” 

Mom reached out to take her hand. “And that is why this child is already blessed. Take good care of him.” 

“You don’t gotta worry about that!” Zheng declared. 

The couple took their leave. Mom quietly watched them go. Then, she sighed. “Mian, Zin… I think I’d like to get back to the airship. Seeing those two with their child reminds me I’ve been neglecting you two.” 

“Not at all,” Zin reassured her. “I’m happy to be here with you. Mian, what about you?” 

Mian swallowed. “Life’s great,” she said. 

“Of course it is,” Mom said, craning her neck to look toward her. She reached a hand over her own shoulder to pat Mian’s. “I really love you two. And you know that Asami did too. We’re so, so proud of you both.”

Zin coughed. “Is… is there anything else you’d like to see in this town?” 

Mom shook her head. “I think I’ve seen it all. Besides, the sun is setting, isn’t it?” 

Zin looked at the horizon, wispy clouds floating over desert dust. “You know, I think if we get back in time, we may be able to enjoy a truly spectacular sunset together.” 

“Oh, I’d like that,” Mom said. She squeezed Mian’s hand. “Wouldn’t you, Mian?” 

“I would,” Mian said quietly, but with far more strength in her voice than she’d expected. “I’d enjoy that very much.” 


	3. Chapter 3

When our daughter was very young, she would not allow us to tell her a story without first promising a happy ending.

It’s a very natural thing. What more do we want, as an audience, than to know that the characters we’ve come to love end up with what they deserve, that every question is answered and every problem solved. All the stories I read at her bedside had a happy ending—even if I had to change them to make it so.

But the stories of Avatars—indeed, the stories of any real, living people—can never have a happy ending. At best, you can cut away in a happy moment, but even if you do, life marches onward. Life, with all its promises and disappointments, with all its love and the crawling inevitability of loss. No Avatar’s life has a happy ending, and mine, I’m afraid, is no different.

Life is not a story. A story has rules, a story can be edited. Life is a mess. One great big bumpy ride, with the same ending in store for each and every one of us. Friends and lovers, enemies and mentors, commoners and kings and the Avatar herself.

But, while endings may be what we most remember, they are not why we listen to stories. We listen for the journey. We listen to fall in love, to be carried away. To be fooled, for a time, into believing that life does have rules, that we can control our fates. To believe, against countless generations of experience, that a happy ending is possible in our own stories.

Stories worth hearing are like lives worth living. Filled with people we love, with challenges overcome, dangers defeated. With joy to follow every sadness.

When these words are read by any eyes but my own, it means that I am gone. I know the deep loss that this will be for people I care about, for people who care about me. That’s the part most stories leave out. That’s the best any of us can hope for, in the end.

Some might find this sad, or bleak. But as I write this, I am smiling. Pictures and mementos surround me from a life that took me to the edges of two worlds. My children are just a room away, and my grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, all playing with each other, filling the air with easy laughter. The moverbox speaks of a world at peace, pastries are warming in the oven, and I know that my life has been a good one.

My wife, my beautiful and amazing wife, Asami Sato, guardian of my heart and steward of my soul, met her ending twenty-two days ago. She, too, led a good life, and she knew it. My love for her grew every single day, and has not stopped growing simply because I awoke one morning and she did not. 

Life does not have happy endings.

And yet…

It continues. It endures. My wife is gone, yet this house is full of her. I hear her thoughtfulness in Zin’s voice as he calms his nephew, I hear her devotion in Mian’s laughter as the children run amok.

Asami is gone, but she is all around me still. Her support is behind every word I’ve ever written. Her courage and convictions colored every lesson I’ve ever taught. Like a stone cast into a pond, the ripples of her life continue long after she’s passed out of sight.

Now, I am gone too, but the very fact that this is being read means that my life continues to ripple. Not simply what I’ve done as the Avatar, but my own words, my own thoughts. 

You can hear me.

We listen to stories to hear of people we love, of worlds that make sense. To believe in happy endings. Perhaps, as I said, happy endings cannot exist, because the end of every life must come with sorrow.

But perhaps there is another reason.

Perhaps there are no endings at all.

My story is over… but somewhere in the world, there is a child whose story is just beginning. Whoever is reading this, be it the day after I pass or centuries in the future, your story is well underway. Three generations of Satos fill my heart with stories I will never know the end of.

Joys to follow every sadness.

All of these stories will go on without me. All of them will go on, carrying a bit of me with them. Just as they carry a bit of Asami, a bit of my parents, a bit of Tenzin… a bit of every person I’ve ever had the good fortune to love.

I’ve written many words and felled many foes. I’ve traveled far on my own and farther with people I love, and I know I’ve made a difference. Even as my story draws to a close, I know my legacy will endure. How can I not be grateful? 

So, I give no advice to the world, have no final wisdom to impart. It is not for me to say how I shall be remembered, how history decides to tell the story of Avatar Korra. I know only that I am satisfied with this journey. That I had more good years than bad. That, while I miss Asami dearly, I was beyond blessed to have so many years with somebody so special, so deserving.

Asami, my love: we’ve made the story happier for our time in it. Our final page turns, as a new chapter begins.

I miss you.

I’ll see you soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a letter from Korra to the world, but in a way, it's also from me, Shannon, to all my dear readers. 
> 
> While Comes Marching Home may not be totally finished, I do feel like it's winding down, and premature as it may feel, I wanted to set the stage for a gentle goodbye. 
> 
> This series means a lot to me, as does the response to it. These characters mean a lot to me, too. I wanted to all of it the bittersweet, tender sendoff it deserves. 
> 
> Thank you for the years and the tears and the laughter and the sighs. 
> 
> Thank you to all the friends I've made here, those I talk to every day and those who've gone their own way. 
> 
> Thank you, of course, to Bryke and the whole LoK crew, for creating these characters and this world for me to play in. 
> 
> And thank you, finally, to Korra and Asami. Who showed me myself through your struggles. Who showed me love and family, the true courage to fight my inner demons, the true battle that it can be to be kind to yourself. 
> 
> I know, to many, they are but characters in a kid's show, shapes on a screen. 
> 
> But to those of us who know them... 
> 
> “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.  
But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”  
― Margery Williams Bianco, The Velveteen Rabbit
> 
> My life, and my writing, may move on to other things. Other parts of this fandom. My own creations. 
> 
> But there's a piece of my heart where Korra and Asami will always reside. 
> 
> And these stories will be here, too, whenever I miss them. 
> 
> See you later, friends. 
> 
> And perhaps, see you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friends Alistair and Rose for helping me polish these up. I've had this general idea in my head for ages now, and intended to post them as my last entry in this series. I'm not QUITE finished yet, but I'm close, and with Korrasami Week 2019 having two prompts that fit, it felt like the perfect time.


End file.
